


The Other Bat Brat

by FandomwhoreExtraordinaire



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Damian is a little shit, Dorky OC, F/M, Family, Fluff, He's a little shit but he's cute, Mystery, Red Arrow being hot, Red Hood in YJ, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8678698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomwhoreExtraordinaire/pseuds/FandomwhoreExtraordinaire
Summary: Are her demons enough to drive her away again or will a cocky archer and a spoiled brat convince her to stay on the team? Romance between Red Arrow and OC.Red Hood in Young justice (as it should be). Walking the line of Crossover and AU because Damian is on the team and in this universe, Red Arrow is the original Roy and ended up joining the team (reluctantly). Bat Family and close sibling like relationship between the OC and Damian.





	1. Stupid Penetrable Skin

Chapter 1  
Gotham City 8:00 pm  
Moonlight floods across the floor of my tiny apartment. I wince at the light, tempted to snap the curtains back over the window, but instead I back away toward my closet. My face nearly kisses the floor as I trip on my crossbow so perfectly placed in the middle of the room. Cursing, I rub my foot and dread the night to come. Trying to stop criminals in Gotham is like trying to make bunnies go extinct. God knows why The Bat ever started but now he’s got a whole gaggle of teens doing the most thankless job in the universe, but I can’t think about them now. If I think about them I’ll miss them, and I hate missing people.  
You don’t understand the costumes that supers wear until your sweatshirt gets snagged on a piece of wire fencing. This is why common criminals are so easy to catch but it also means I have to wear a specially designed suit for my non-existent powers that clings to my body in an oddly sexual manner and holds onto blood stains like a security blanket. If anyone ever saw my closet they’d think I had some weird superhero fetish or was a superhero. I’m not by the way. I’m just an idiot. After wrestling myself into the tight material of my suit I pull my medium length silver hair into a sleek bun. You learn to do that too after you lose a chunk of hair in some assholes fist.  
I could still turn back now. I’ve been officially out of the game for a while. If Batman knew how I spent my nights he’d whoop me (but not in pervy way). I could still turn back, but I won’t. Because, this is how I stay close to them without actually being with them. This is my thing that helps me sleep at night. The cool titanium of my crossbow is like a grounding weight in my hand, keeping my mind as strong and focused as my weapon. Red Arrow taught me how to use the crossbow, but I don’t think he expected me to actually get good at it. My bat leans against the window (for close range fighting). Throwing the window open and grabbing my bat I swing my leg over the sill before the bullet slices through my shoulder. I fall back into the room and collapse against the wall, crouching beneath the shooter’s field of view. I scramble to load my crossbow but the bullet in my shoulder makes me weak and I can’t fight bullets with a bat, so it’s down to plan B.  
Plan B equals me running away. Like a wimp. I groan as the jolt of me securing my crossbow to my back yanks at the fresh wound in my shoulder. Stupid bullet. What I’d give to be Superman right now. Stupid penetrable flesh. Grabbing my bat I start to crawl, very, very slowly, with much intermittent cussing, toward the door. A thud behind me turns my head. The grenade smoking propels me forward. I hurtle through the door of my tiny apartment and slam it shut behind me. The blast erupts inside the crummy apartment, buckling the door from the shock. With ringing ears, I crawl away from the dank and musty apartment that has been my home for the past year. Oh well, I was going to move anyway. Seeing how someone is trying to kill me, sooner is better than later.  
The hole in my shoulder throbs and gushes blood. I tell myself that it’s a minor wound and grind my teeth through the misery. Don’t worry, if I die you can say “I told you so”. Two apartment building’s walls close in on me as I squeeze through an alley. The blood from my shoulder leaves a long streak against the wall. A red trail glares behind me and I send up a silent prayer that my attacker hasn’t followed me ‘cause if they see that they’re sure to find me. Even I can only handle one shot at a time.  
I can’t say if it’s the blood loss or the acid I put in my oatmeal this morning but the sounds of the people above clatter down the fire escape like a song, pounding against my ears. Arguments and blaring music. Drug deals and domestic abuse. A man smoking his last cigarette. The gun whispering to him from the table. The world warps and pulsates, urging me to take a seat and let the assault of Gotham racket lull me into death. I’m not helping anyone anyway, but I keep going. I push forward because if anyone got anything through my thick skull, it’s that you don’t give up.I slip into the most elegantly graffitied phone booth in Gotham and collapse against the glass.  
“Recognized. Jay X B12.” The robotic voice both sooths and terrifies me. In the cave I won’t be able to hide. Not from my past. Not from my ghosts. Not from the people that I loved. The people I shouldn’t have. Home has a way of doing that to you, messing with your mind and making you into a child, helpless and powerless. I do miss them though.  
The zeta-beam drops me into the cave. Not a soul in sight, and I’m still bleeding heavily.  
“Hello?” My call is faint and irritating. I stumble and collapse onto the ground. A shadow looms over me. Familiar red hair brushes across the skin of a curious face and piercing green eyes peer into mine. I can barely hear the words he speaks as my vision goes fuzzy and a black blanket falls over my mind.


	2. Preliminary Replacement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jay wakes up at the cave and meets the newest member of the team.

Chapter 2  
Mount Justice 10:00 AM  
I wake up to the smell of blood and coffee. Unnerving, I know. Groggily blinking my eyes, I blurrily survey my surroundings. My shoulder aches but the throbbing has eased up and I can feel the soft grating of cotton swaps and bandages against skin. The idea of them digging the bullet out churns my stomach which brings me to the smell of the room. Surely the metallic tang in the air is coming from me unless someone else has suffered the ripping of flesh and loss of blood. It’s the coffee that’s stumping me. Did they perform minor surgery in the kitchen? And if so did they really think now is an appropriate time to drink coffee over my weak pathetic body? Lastly are they going to offer me any?   
I squint at the boy standing above me. He glares at me with narrowed eyes and tightly drawn brows. Pure annoyance emanates from him. He waves a cup back and forth beneath my nose.  
“Hey kid. Are you going to give me that or just keep teasing me like a dog?” He actually jumps at the sound of my raspy voice, but quickly recovers with an irritated grimace, thrusting the mug in my general direction. Hot coffee sears my skin and I move quickly to rub the fresh burn. Swiping the coffee from him, I study his face suspiciously. I’ve definitely never met him before but there is something eerily familiar about his features that I just can’t put my finger on.  
“So what’s your name Kid?”   
“Damian. And stop calling me kid,” he snaps, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the defining of his maturity.   
“Sure thing Jr.” an actual growl escapes his lips and I have to hold down laughter. “Shortstop?” silent daggers. “How ‘bout the littlest Robin?” This catches his attention. Wary eyes gaze at me in obvious but contained curiosity.   
“So you do know who I am. I didn’t think you would.”   
“You have a giant R on your chest.” He looks down to check whether or not that was a valid way I could’ve figured him out.   
“Yeah well. Who are you?” The harshness of his voice bothers me but I’m too exhausted to smack some sense into him.   
“I’m Jay X.” His eyebrows crunch together in either confusion or annoyance. Maybe both.   
“That’s stupid and not your name.” Who the hell is this kid?   
“It’s not stupid, you probably couldn’t even figure out why I go by Jay X, might I remind you that you go by Robin, and of course it’s not my real name. Rule number one in this business: secret identities are everything.” I can’t help but feel satisfied at his astounded expression, as if no one had said anything like that to him before in his life. Groaning I push myself into a sitting position.   
“Are you getting up? You’re not supposed to get up. Grayson said that you need to stay resting.” Of course he did. Good old Dick, trying to take care of me.   
“Well I’m getting up so you better go get him,” this elicits another growl. Damian trudges out of the room to go find my old friend. My heart patters excitedly at the memory of talking and laughing, a blonde pony-tail whipping me in the face, emerald eyes twinkling teasingly, Grayson’s bright laugh and kind heart, and stormy grey-blue eyes that cut me off at the knees. Those eyes.   
“You never could follow orders,” I spin around instantly regretting the sharp movement but the pain is nothing compared to the feeling of home at the sound of Dick’s voice. Like a natural leader always does, his voice brings a stillness even when he was a short fifteen year old telling me to get whelmed. Too bad I never listen to him.   
“You know it. The new suit looks good on you,” he laughs and walks over to the cot I’m sitting on. His arms wrap around me and I sigh into the embrace. It’s been a long time since I’ve been hugged. “Hey,” I mumble into Nightwing’s now filled out figure. Pure muscle.   
“We missed you around here, Margo.” Squeals echo from out in the hall and both Grayson and I prepare for the green monster that is sure to enter the room. A blur of green skin and red hair smashes into me. The being squishes itself against my face and chatters frantically”.   
“Oh my god! I heard you were back. It’s so good to see you.”   
“Good to shee you too” I squeak from M’gann’s tight cuddle.   
“How are you? Were you hurt? Am I hurting you?” M’gann pushes away from me still gripping my shoulders.   
“I’m fine M’gann. It’s not that bad.” Her soft brown eyes sparkle with tears. “Don’t cry. I’ll be better soon and then I’ll get out of your hair,” I joke light heartedly.   
“Shut up. How long are you staying really?” I don’t ever want to leave but I can already hear his voice and even the conversations of my old family won’t dull it.   
“A while, till my shoulder heals and I figure out my next move.”   
“Speaking of next moves. If someone is trying to kill you we need to know why. I’ll send Batgirl and Robin out on a reconnaissance mission to find out who’s behind it.”   
“Baby bird or Tim?” Nightwing stifles a laugh but quickly recovers from my snark.   
“Drake will go. He has more experience and is the official Robin.”   
“And Damian is what, a backup?” Mrs. Martian’s eyes widen in shock at the venom dripping from my voice, glancing nervously between me and Dick.   
“It’s not like that. Damian is uh… a special case. He’s here to learn and to be supervised and if Tim chooses he could assume a new mantle soon.” It’s logical. I trust them. It’s not how it feels. Right?   
“It sounds a lot like a preliminary replacement to me.”   
“No you don’t understand we have to do this. Damian is Batman’s son,” M’gann interjects. My jaw drops in disbelief. Batman has a son?!   
“Since when? Since when does Batman have a son? That kid is at least ten I’ve only been gone a year,” I ask, trying to wrap my head around the idea of my old Mentor being a father. He makes a great mentor but a father?   
“He just found out,” Grayson says, “It’s only been a few months and he was getting into trouble so we took him in. As Robin he has purpose. You of all people should understand that,” he knows why this would bother me so why is he trying to guilt me into accepting it?   
“How would I know? I was never Robin.” Groaning, I stand up and grasp my shoulder. “I need a walk.” With that I shuffle past my friends out into the hallway.   
It’s a long walk to the hero tributes. Too much thinking. So many have died and we don’t talk about it because heroes never die right? Batman saved my life. This team saved my life. I would never say that I wish I’d never met them because if I didn’t I’d probably be in jail or dead or something but the fact is we’re teenagers. Not even all of us have superpowers. There is a reason that my hair is grey and it’s not hormones. It was like I aged fifty years that day. It was like I died with him


	3. A Death in The Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: The events in this chapter took place approximately one year ago, but it is written like Margo is telling a story. Enjoy and REVIEW.

Chapter 3  
It was a warehouse I think, some run down building condemned forever ago. If we hadn’t gone in then maybe, maybe things would have turned out differently. But we did go in, ready to fight our way out of a surely fatal situation. We were supposed to wait for backup. Why didn’t we wait for backup?  
Robin went in first, surveyed the area and motioned for me to follow. I told myself that it was too late to turn back. We were already in, why go back now? We rounded corner after corner of decrepit hallways lined with old furniture, tech, you name it. This was the place where obsolete items came to die, so what did that make us. When lady death comes knocking we heroes tend to greet her enthusiastically. Not me, not anymore. Call me a coward or selfish or whatever you want but I can’t face my demons with a hello. Not anymore.  
I heard the laugh before he did. So the evil clown was there. We should have called Batman. That’s all we should have done: find out if the Joker was there and then call Batman. Of course we didn’t. I followed Robin as he lusted after danger, after glory. To say the least, I’m an idiot.  
We crept farther toward the center of the building with that awful laugh reverberating off every column. I wish that I could’ve seen his face, had a target to shoot at, instead of the laugh that was everywhere and nowhere at once. I wanted to have at least some control over the situation and my hand shaking around the handle of my crossbow. My finger rested on the trigger.  
Robin skidded to a halt in front of a door, me nearly colliding with the back of him.  
“You know I think we should just go in. I’m sure the Joker has a pot of tea going. We could all sit around and make fun of Batman.”  
“Shut up Jay. I’m going in,”  
“You’re so funny Jay. Hey you know this was a pretty stupid idea. Why don’t we turn around so we can live to die another day? Donuts on me” My high pitched impression was less than impressive to Robin. Once he got a thought in his head, there was no getting it out.  
“If you didn’t want to be here than why didn’t you request to be teamed up with your secret boyfriend? I’m sure he would have loved to have you tag along so you could do nothing and watch him shoot arrows at no one,”  
“Shut up Robin. It’s not like I care if you live or die or anything.” We had apparently settled it because he opened the door letting it swing open. I hate guns. No, I am revolted by guns but that moment I wished one of us was holding one. Instinctively I grabbed Robin’s shoulder. “Wait.” I pulled him into a hug, staying a little too long.  
“Don’t forget to cover your mouth and nose,” he said as he pulled his suit up over his face. I did the same, willed my hand to stop shaking, and followed him into the room.  
As expected, a Joker’s noxious green gas cloud dropped on us. My lungs burned with the effort of not breathing. I could feel us moving faster. I could feel us fading as we tried to escape the toxin in the air. One breath and we’d be dead, absolute worm food.  
Robin broke through a door; we collapsed on the other side, choking on stale but sweet air. If a fight could be declared over before it began it was this one. I remember feeling as though the musty walls were living breathing things, as if they were helping conceal The Joker from us. He came out of the shadows with that evil grin plastered on his face. Robin clenched his staff. He had fought The Joker before. I had not. So tell me, who should have had a better chance?  
He came swinging at us with a crowbar. My loosed arrow barley missed his head as Robin met the crowbar with his staff. I loaded another arrow, missed again. Another. Missed. If only they’d stop moving I could secure a target. Robin hit the wall next to me. Another arrow. This one hit its mark, exploding against The Clown Prince and sending him flying backwards. Robin groaned and jumped back up but I’d already advanced. My fist hit flesh and I ducked as the crowbar cut the air above me.  
“My beef is with The Boy Wonder Dear. I’m perfectly willing to let you walk out of here without a scratch on you.”  
“Good One. And I’ll just hand over my crossbow, tip my hat, and whistle a merry tune too.” He laughed and my stomach churned. I didn’t like the idea of him finding me funny.  
“It’s ok. Your distraction will do well enough.” Confusion spread over my face and he grinned wider at the sight of it.  
“What are you talking about?” I still can’t believe I didn’t notice the open window, the air whooshing in and out, my missing partner, or my missing weapon for that matter. It took one glance, one second. Joker smashed the crowbar against my face, catching me just above the eye. Blood rushed from the cut, stickying my eye lashes and blurring my vision.  
Joker skipped over me toward the window. Before he could get farther, I grabbed him by the ankle, dragging him down. I stood up, faltered and steadied. Laughter rang out in the air. Two kicks, one to the chest and one to the jaw. Joker groaned without losing his grin and I for some reason felt safe enough to turn away from him. Stupid me.  
It was a signal from behind. I know it. As I turned around I could see the flick of his wrist and a light blinking from across the alley.  
Robin perched on the fire escape, watching someone, waiting with my crossbow, thinking he had the upper hand on the invisible enemy. A cry escaped my lips as I lunged towards him.  
“Robin!!” He turned towards my voice. My voice like the siren’s song, a call of death.  
The Harpoon came fast, ripping violently through the flesh of his back. My tears fell steadily as the cold reality seeped onto his face. He groped the wooden pike protruding from his breast, slicked with blood. My legs went forward and his went back. His knees hit the rail sending him tumbling over.  
“JASON! NO! NO! NO! AHHH JAAAAASSSSOON!” I yelled, throwing myself forward. My screams were deafening, my tears never-ending, and my fall bone shattering. My earth stopped, crumbled into a million pieces as Jason hit the ground. The Joker’s cackles echoed throughout the building, tormenting me even though he was long gone.  
It was seconds, maybe minutes before I heaved myself up. It was a lifetime before I reached his body. His broken figure yanked at the tears hiding in my eyes. I fell to the ground cradling his head. No words could describe the anguish that rushed through me. The sound of cars driving by harmonized with my sobs as night fell over us and then as the Batman carried us home.


	4. Silver and Copper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, long chapter. Margo tells the story about what happened leading up to her leaving the team. Romance introduction and a lot of sad stuff. I'll be going back to the present for a while now cause a big chunk of the explaining is over. For future reference I change Jason's story quite a bit and I make him a bit more likable but i will try to stay true to his character from the comics. Please enjoy.

Chapter 4   
There was a moment every morning when I would forget what had happened. Somewhere in sleep my mind reworked the event and every day I woke up expecting him to be there, to be there protecting me, laughing at me, fighting with me. I could hear his voice, see him rolling his eyes. What do you do when you lose someone that way? How do you go one? If it happened to you what would your family do? I bet they’d walk on eggshells around you and constantly ask you if you need anything. Mine expected me to move on. We are heroes. Heroes don’t die and they don’t take time off. They do what must be done. What if I couldn’t move on?   
I know I scared them. I showed them a side of myself that no one had ever seen. M’gann would come careening into my room in the middle of the night as my screams shook the cave. Her sad brown eyes would greet me when she finally shook the nightmares out of me. Once she told me that my crying was like a song. My voice. My voice is the sound of death.   
I found the first grey hair the day after his death. Each day after that there was more. It wasn’t just that my hair was growing out grey, the color was draining from every inch of my hair. In a month my entire head was covered with thick silver locks. I looked like I had a foot in the grave as I drank from the fountain of youth. One should not exist with the other. And the stares I got were the best. Wally actually pulled a piece out when he first saw it. No one had an explanation. Honestly I think they were afraid to try and speak reason to me. I was unexplainable, irrationally, unreasonable. I was chaos.   
For the first two weeks I was a wreck, bowling through the city and falling on anyone in my way with a vengeance. I was angry and too weak to go after who I really wanted. The hate and sadness built inside like a bomb. I could see explosion in people’s eyes, the fear of the criminals I busted, the confusion from my teammates, and the disappointment of my mentor. Batman pulled me off the job. He said I was too out of control. He said that he missed him too, but he must not have missed him like I did or he would be able to look at me so calmly. Of course, Jason and I weren’t like Dick. We were Batman’s apprentices not Bruce’s children, no matter how much Jason wanted that title.  
So, I was sludge either slung across the couch, lumped in a ball on my bed, melting on the counter. I ate and slept like a clockwork. I laughed at car crashes and cried at comedies. I did nothing much of anything accept sit. The sadness became me to compensate for an itch of uselessness at the back of my mind. My instincts told me to get up, the sadness told me I wasn’t wanted, and the fear showed me all the people bloodied by my fist. So, sludge I stayed.   
He came at the most inopportune time (I was in the middle of Mean Girls). At some point I had stripped down to my underwear and an old ripped t-shirt. Who knows it might have been his. He didn’t speak at first, just sat down next to me. Tentatively I peeked at him through my new do. He donned a different kind of suit, the kind you wear to weddings and funerals. His soft copper locks were gelled back and his stormy grey-blue eyes were exposed. The few times I saw him without the mask always left me breathless.   
“What in the world are you wearing?” He asked. Of course that would be the first thing he said to me.   
“What do you want Roy?”   
“What do you think?” His soft smile seemed unnatural on his sharp and terminally annoyed features.  
“Are we just going to speak in questions?”   
“I don’t know. Are we?” I smiled at his playing along. I was always surprised when he would jump in to one of my ridiculous games.   
“Margo. Come on. It’s the memorial today.” He ran his hand through his hair and sucked in a breath of air.   
“So what?” I snapped at him. Turning to the side he reached out and grabbed my shoulders, pulling me closer to him.   
“We are done watching you destroy yourself. I don’t know what happened that day or what the hell you are blaming yourself for, but I’m here in this stupid suit for you. Honestly I didn’t like him all that much. We are all going to this thing but let’s face it, you’re the one who needs it. You need it bad, because this,” Roy gestured to me, “this isn’t you. So let’s get you into a black dress and do something with this crazy new hair and go to this thing so you can stay goodbye to your best friend. That’s what.”   
“I don’t want to say goodbye.” That was all I could think to say to the longest speech I’d ever heard him make.   
“Well you have to.” He was right. That doesn’t mean I listened. I have a slight problem with that.   
“Fine.”   
Roy sat stiffly on my bed as I showered. I could feel his embarrassment rolling off of him in waves. The hot steam vitalized my skin but not my heart. Grime and sweat melted off of me. I almost didn’t recognize my reflection. It wasn’t the walking corpse I was used to but a living person. If not for the angst pooling in my eyes, no one would have known how broken I was.   
I wound my soft hair into a tight bun, a glittering coin on the back of my head. Tendrils fell around my face, framing my muddy brown eyes and speckled face. I used to like the color of my eyes and my freckles. Now the brown is too soft for the starkness of my hair, and the childlike nature of my freckles clashes with the grey curls of an elderly woman. I just feel like two different people all the time, splitting in half. After a while in front of the mirror. Roy passed me a dress through the crack in the door. I could hear him straining to keep me out of eyesight. I slipped on the dress; the tight black silk felt alien against my body, so used to loose, baggy cotton. Roy’s gaze inspected me as I stepped out of the bathroom. Flushing I turned around.   
“Zip me up?” He cleared his throat.   
“Sure.” Shivers ran up my spine as his rough fingers gently slid the zipper up. I slowly moved to face him. His eyes stared intently into mine and his hand still rested at the small of my back. It seemed like an eternity passed with him just looking into me, reading my soul. I still wonder if what he saw scared him. Did my demons rattle the great Roy Harper? Suddenly his lips were pressed against mine, softly. His warm mouth touched mine but didn’t move. His tongue didn’t delve between my lips. It was a kind kiss, comforting and longed for. It was brief and sweet. He pulled away just as suddenly as he came and walked out of the room. A single tear streaked down my cheek. To this day I don’t know what it meant.   
We drove in silence to Bruce’s mansion. The estate were I lived until my permanent move to the cave. This place just never felt like home. Bruce felt like family sure, but I’m a street kid and a thousand rooms with pieces of art worth three billion times as much as me just wasn’t welcoming. I didn’t know that Roy had been here before but he seemed to know the way better than me. I could see the entire team and a few Justice League members huddled on the golf course of a lawn.  
Roy parked. We didn’t get out of the car. We just sat there. I think that he wanted to say something but he opened the door instead and got out. I followed, eager to get this charade I was putting on over. His hand came to rest on the small of my back pretending to lead me to the group but actually holding me up, supporting me. At least I didn’t wear heels or I surely would’ve fallen.   
Hands touched me as we got absorbed into the crowd. All kinds of hands, attached to all kinds of people, all wearing the same expression: is she going to be okay? If they had actually asked I don’t know what I would’ve said. Artemis and M’gann linked their arms with mine taking the role of Roy’s hand and lead me to the chairs set up on the grass. The picture of Jason and me in our uniforms was like a punch to the gut. We looked so happy surrounded by flowers and lanterns. We were happy in that picture. Maybe it was too much, going to the memorial. Maybe that was the thing that pushed me over the edge. I guess we’ll never know.   
Bruce spoke. His gravelly voice filled the outside as if it were a tiny room. It was full and authoritative. He told stories about Jason. Like a magic wand he made him appear in front of me. Bruce talked about his stubbornness, his cockiness, his ingenuity, the way he would do anything for the team, how much he cared about being Robin, what a great sidekick he was, and how his place on the team would never be forgotten. But he also talked about him like a son and I wished more than anything that Jason could’ve heard it.   
Next was Tim, a soft spoken strong willed kid who was proud to accept the mantle of Robin. His striking black hair and blue eyes so much like Dick. He said that he respected Jason and that he hoped he could do right by the name, by the suit. He spoke with his eyes on me looking for my acceptance. I looked at him and his innocence and I saw myself and Jason. I worried that a year from then I would be sitting there with a picture of Tim in front of me, or Roy, M’gann, Artemis, Wally, Dick. I felt this crushing feeling that at any moment one of us could drop dead, I felt that Robin was cursed, because the only true Robin will always be Dick, but most of all I felt that the whole concept of sidekicks was wrong. The name and the costume passes on while only the original and the last to wear them are remembered. We are easily replaced, because the public doesn’t care who’s behind the mask, just that it is being worn.   
Roy drove me home. He walked me inside. He said goodbye, and he kissed me on the cheek. I watched him go for what I believed would be the last time. M’gann was down the hall with Connor. Artemis and Wally were in the kitchen. Zatanna was in her room. I slipped quietly into my room, praying that the full house wouldn’t come searching. Only a few things were needed: some clothes, my crossbow, pictures of the people I was abandoning, my costume, and cash. Grabbing my bag I cautiously opened my door. The coast was clear. I didn’t turn back, not once. Not even when a hand grabbed my arm. Not even when he pulled the ribbon from my hair and let go. He said nothing and neither did I. I kept walking, all the way to my first shitty apartment and year of solitude.


	5. Donut Throwing Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure i was hungry when i wrote this chapter. Anyway mainly fluff but I'll be getting into the mission more and developing the relationships and side characters. Dick Grayson and Wally are my absolute favorite people ever, but are really hard to write so if you have notes feel free to share. Enjoy.

Chapter 5   
I wake up with sleep crusted across my eyes. My shoulder twinges with the irritation of being slept on. Jason looms above me. I guess I must have fallen asleep in the tribute room. Pushing myself up, I groan and rub the wound, even poking at it. Like when you have a bruise and you feel that if you put pressure on it the ache will ebb. Of course, it doesn’t work. It hurts. Every limb hangs heavy and thick. Too much sleep has made me groggy and slow, the perfect position to be in when you’re being hunted.   
The patter of my feet bounces off the walls in a rhythmic alarm, for anyone who’d want to find me. Oh well. I knew that if I came back here I wouldn’t be able to hide. Like I was really hiding from my problems out in the world. They weren’t looking for me I guess. Out there Jason’s ghost was content to leave me be. In here he’s all around. I swear that I see him out of the corner of my eye all of the time. He haunts me.   
The kitchen is perfectly clean, clinical really. So sterile it burns my eyes. Breathing in deeply, I sigh in ecstasy at the warm aroma of cinnamon rolls. The pastry wraps around me and clouds my senses. If villains knew the way a warm baked good incapacitates me it would be the only thing they bring to a battle. Just throw donuts at me and I’ll crumble to my knees.   
“Morning Margo.” M’gann chirps but I can hear the edge in her voice.   
“Morning,” I say cheerfully spinning around to greet my friend. I don’t want them to be scared of me. I’m not the same person I was last year. I’m okay. Really, much more sane. “These smell amazing. When will they be done?” The bell rings on the last word and I smile sheepishly. M’gann expertly pulls the tray out of the oven, in perfect contrast to the stories of her nearly burning down the kitchen.   
“How’d you sleep,” she asks scooping frosting onto the sweet buns. It rolls down the sides in fat sugary drops, pooling on the plate. I lick my lips in anticipation and she chuckles at my childlike nature.   
“On my bad shoulder,” I joke. M’gann places one cinnamon roll onto a plate and starts to push it towards me. I shake my head wildly, the gesture eliciting giggles from the emerald skinned girl. Her short hair swings softly across her forehead and brushes her ears. It’s still shocking to see. When I was here she had long auburn hair. This new look made her look so adult. She puts a few more onto my plate to comply with my demands and scoots the plate over to me. “Ow. Ow hot. Oh my tongue,” I cry dropping the steaming roll back onto the plate. My tongue throbs as I wipe frosting off my face and fan my mouth.   
“Ahahaaha” M’gann laughs at my pain.   
“Oh you think this isth funny do you,” My lisp just makes her laugh more, doubling over and gasping. “All right all right. Iths not that funny,” I smile and chuckle.   
“It’s good to see you like this.”   
“Like what?”   
“Happy” Was I happy? I felt happy. I guess I looked happy. If most of you is happy are you really happy?   
“Recognized. Red Arrow B08.” The robotic voice churns my stomach. I don’t dare turn around. Nope. No turning around. I peek over my shoulder to glance at the man who let me go without a word, keeping my ribbon like one of Wally’s stupid souvenirs. Don’t give me that look, I didn’t actually turn around. He stops dead in his tracks. The walls could tell that he’s looking at me. My face burns in embarrassment and I silently beg him to turn his gaze elsewhere.   
“Meeting. Now.” Curt and rough. So Roy. With that he walks out of the room leaving behind only the fire in my cheeks and the ache in my chest.   
“You okay?” Miss Martian asks with an overwhelming dose of sympathy.   
“Sure,” I smile, “you’ve got a meeting to get to.”   
“You coming?” Her doe eyes beg.   
“I shouldn’t,” I say evading the real problem. I don’t think I can be in a room with Roy.  
“Come on. You still haven’t seen Artemis or Zatanna and you were unconscious when Wally brought you in. Plus it’s been a while since Tim heard from you,” she says. A twinge of guilt pierces me.  
It’s true. I try to keep in touch with Tim to make sure he’s okay, checking in with Batman style phone calls every now and then. You know “are you okay? How’s the team? Well don’t die, I’ll call in a few weeks”. Maybe it’s the whole Robin of it all but I feel like it’s my responsibility to take care of the kid, but it been a few months.   
“Fine.”   
I fill the space with empty chatter. Words and laughter help push back the suffocating walls. M’gann titters and gabs eagerly, probably sensing the same energy as me. The entire team turns to stare at us as we enter the hanger. New faces peer curiously and old ones emanate shock. Artemis grins and waves us over. Her handsome ginger accessory shoots me a mischievous look. Does he know something I don’t? I should probably be worried.   
“Who’s the new girl?”   
“I don’t know. Her hair is so weird.”   
“Maybe she’s an alien.” Loud whispers bounce around the room. Youthful intrigue is not easily disguised, I just hope they are more stealth on missions. I shuffle uncomfortably from all the scrutiny. Thankfully, Grayson steps up in front of the group and gestures towards me.   
“This is Jay x a senior member of this team who’s been on leave. She’ll be joining us for a while as our mission is in direct relation to her. I expect you will treat her with the utmost respect.” I wave awkwardly.   
“Uh you can just call me Jay. A last name is so formal,” silence and confusion, “I was shot. Who wants to see the bullet wound?” a few hands shoot in the air but drop quickly with one glare from Roy.   
“So our Mission. There have been recent disturbances in Gotham city, shootings in several areas, all with fatalities, all of the deceased were criminals in the middle of a crime. Bank robbery, kidnapping, grand theft auto. Very specific shells were found on the scene. The same shells found in your apartment,” he says, looking directly at me. I raise my arm up stick straight and bounce up and down. Dick stifles a laugh with a cough. “Yes?”   
“Firstly excellent sleuthing with the sneaky bullet bit. One question though, ok two, if my shooter is a crime killing vigilante, does that mean I look like a criminal? And how the hell did you find shells in my apartment which if I remember correctly was blown to smithereens?”   
“The grenade didn’t destroy everything and no you don’t look like a criminal especially in boxers.” I glance down and yank furiously on the boy’s underwear covering my lady bits. “Carry on.”   
“Alright seeing how the shooter is going after criminals, I think that staging a heist with concealed backup from the Justice League would be the best course of action to lure the shooter out.”   
“Why do we need backup? I think we should just take him ourselves,” Damian snarls. Eyes roll across the room. This kid.   
“Cause’ that would make us stupid. And we’re not stupid. This is technically a covert team. Being too conspicuous could damage our ability to go undercover. ” Heads snap up to look at me, obviously surprised at the non-joking remark I uttered. Damian huffs in annoyance. I shrug my shoulders “I haven’t been out of the game that long.”   
“Suit up and meet back here. Reconnaissance today. Fake heist tomorrow.” The team disperses, fading into clusters of kids. I saunter up to Grayson and fall into step alongside   
“Well I’m whelmed,” I say. He grins. “You sound like Batman.” The smile falls from his face. “What’s wrong? I meant it as a compliment.   
“Why do think I’m Nightwing?” Dick sighs and looks at me. The tired seeps out of his eyes and I can see how hard this job has been on the lighthearted soul I used to know.   
“Because three Robins would be excessive.”   
“Everyone always expected that when I stopped being Robin I would be Batman but I don’t want to be Batman. I can’t be Batman.”   
“Then don’t be. Be Dick Grayson. I personally think he’s pretty cool. Nightwing’s OK too. I guess.” He lightly punches my shoulder.   
“You should stay,” my eyes widen and I shrink away from him. It’s too hard. I don’t belong here anymore. Right? For some reason I’m doubting that more and more every day.  
“I ca…”   
“Before you say you can’t just know that I’m not the only one who wants you here,” he says nodding toward the wall behind me. Roy leans against the corner staring intensely at us. He pushes away when he sees me looking.   
“Sure. But I’d probably end up killing Damian.”   
“Well think about it.” Believe me I am.   
“Alright. I just have to know one thing. Whose underwear am I wearing?” Dick laughs.   
“Um I think they’re Roy’s. Wally offered his but he was still wearing them and so Roy went and grabbed a pair from his room.” I blush and squirm. Part of me doesn’t want to take them off. As if reading my mind Grayson says, “You should go get dressed,” then starts walking away. A thought hits me. Who put them on?!   
“Wait Grayson. Who put them on me?” He waves my question away, leaving me wondering if Roy’s hands slid up my legs or if it was one of the other guys. Either option makes me want to die.


	6. Fake Heist?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jay, Roy, and Damian go to survey the arena for the fake heist and Jay wonders what Wally is up to.

Chapter 6   
The worn material of my old self weighs heavy in my hands. I run a thumb across the fabric in a trance like state, remembering the person who used to dawn the costume. She’s gone now though, and putting on this costume isn’t going to bring her back. Throwing the suit over my shoulder, I search for my newer mission garb.   
“What are you looking for?” I turn to greet Artemis’ raspy voice. Her tall figure leans tensely against the doorframe, not daring cross the thresh-hold completely.   
“My suit.”  
“This suit?” she holds up the rejected uniform. If it could laugh, it would be in stiches. Ha punny.  
“I was going to wear the one that I came in with. It’s uh” less loaded with painful memories of my partner dying, “more comfortable”   
“I think they threw it out.”  
“What? Why would they do that?”   
“They had to cut you out of it. And it was covered in blood.” Stupid boys. First the boxers now this? I mean how immature are they? One bullet does not equal cutting me out of my suit. I could’ve fixed it, but now I have to wear that thing. I put my hand up to catch the balled up material Artemis tosses to me. “For the record, I think that Harper just wanted to get you naked.” I am not amused.   
“He wouldn’t do that.”   
“Sure, and Wally doesn’t try to unclip my bra every time we’re alone.”   
“Well Wally is still a thirteen year old boy, we all knew that,” her throaty laugh is warm and open, but it wasn’t always that way. I’m surprised it still is. It took me a long time to weasel my annoying self into Artemis’ awesome heart and then I just abandoned her. I abandoned everyone. If I’m truly being honest with myself, I’m ashamed of leaving. It’s not that it’s too hard or that I don’t belong anymore; it’s not even that the memories are swallowing me whole; it’s that I don’t deserve to still have their concern and trust after giving them up so easily. No wonder Roy won’t talk to me. I wouldn’t.  
“You better get ready. Nightwing’s on a time kick?”   
“Is it just me or is Dick a little weird as team leader?” Don’t get me wrong I respect his ability to lead but he just seems burdened and more serious. I wonder if she sees that too.   
“You’ll get used to it… If you stick around.” I can see the hesitation in her eyes. She’s not willing to let me off that easy; she will not tell me to stay; she won’t bribe me with affection and sweets; she will not tell me that the team isn’t the same without me; that’s why I love her. I don’t deserve her to beg me to stay. I don’t deserve him to beg me to stay, and if I’m going to stay then I’m going to have to make the effort to win them back. “I’ll let you suit up,” I nod silently. Her blonde ponytail flicks out of view as she disappears.   
The fabric feels better than I’d like to admit, like a second skin. It’s probably just that it’s a higher quality than my other suit. I still tie my hair up in a condensed bun, to retain some normalcy. The final action before a mission sends the adrenaline racing up through my veins. I itch to go out with the team. I ache for action.   
Eyes follow me across the room- each widened in curiosity. The old team seems to be more comfortable with me in uniform, like it somehow solidifies my position. It doesn’t, but we’ll let them think that if it makes them feel better. Wally shoots me a mischievous grin, churning my stomach. He’s definitely up to something. This is going to be bad- for me.   
“Let’s split up. Groups of three.” Wally opens his mouth and the urge to tackle him rushes over me.   
“I think that Red Arrow and Jay should be together.”   
“Oh okay. Red and Jay you’ll be together.” Fuck. Dick’s in on it too.   
“What about a third member,” I protest. More for Roy’s sake than my own.   
“Damian,” no. “You go with them.” At least it will be interesting. Everyone else gets split off, but I can barely hear Grayson over the pounding of blood in my ears.   
“Are you ready?” He’s barely looking at me- looking over me rather.   
“Yeah. Grab the kid.”   
“Damian,” he growls at me.   
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.” I can handle this. Wayne Jr. is the perfect buffer. I can’t jump Roy’s bones with a kid around. In your face West! No jumping of bones. Sobriety, all the way.  
Roy motions for us to inch around the building. Security guards “man” the entrance- burly unintelligent creatures knocking each other back and forth across the door way, snorting each time one of them falters. Honestly I could watch them all day, but duty calls. Roy grunts at me as I start to scale the wall. Pretending not to hear him just infuriates him further, but I’m a glutton for punishment.   
“Jay. Get back down here,” He whispers angrily at me.   
“Can’t. I have a plan,” I call back softly, as to not alert the buffoons to my presence.   
“Your plans suck come back here. Now,” his snarls make me giggle and I almost lose my footing.   
“Stop making me laugh unless you want me to die.” He gives up. Finally.   
I reach a ledge and scoot along it until I’m leaning directly over the brothers Dim. Now for the fun part. Digging around in my utility belt, my fingers grasp a small, inconspicuous, seemingly non-threatening, weapon of epic destruction.   
The ball falls gracefully from my fingers, hits the ground, rolls to rest against a foot, then explodes. They victims scream and bat at the air, each punishing the other for being a wimp. I drop into the mess throw a few punches and the men thud- heavy oomph’s are pushed from their lungs.   
Ridiculously proud of my extravagance, I strut over to Damian and Roy.   
“You could’ve done that from here, in half the time,” oh this kid needs to lighten up. He’s definitely Batman’s son.   
“Where’s your sense of excitement, danger, doing the hard thing ‘cause it’s more fun?”   
“Efficiency is more important than fun.”   
“I’m hurt. That was physically painful.   
“Maybe we should go in,” Roy says (slowly so us idiots can understand). We creep against the wall of a long corridor. Honestly I don’t even know what we’re supposed to be doing but Roy is going to do it cautiously and with purpose. We arrive in the main part of the building. It’s full of tech. A quick assessment proves it to be the expensive kind. Well that explains the security outside.   
“I don’t think this is a good idea.” The boys look at me as if I had set an alarm. “There’s no one in here,” I snap, “What if this person blows this stuff up? Or we break something? I’ll probably break something.”   
“That’s why you’re not coming.”   
“What are you talking about?” Roy looks down at me.   
“You really think that Nightwing would bring you on a mission to trap someone who’s hunting you?”   
“That makes me the perfect bait.” He can’t possibly be serious. If they didn’t want me on the mission why would I be here now?   
“You’re injured.”  
“It’s not that bad.”  
“You’re not even on the team.” Ouch. You can always count on Red to speak his mind.   
“Whatever Mr. ‘I should be on the Justice League’.” I brush past him, making sure to knock into his shoulder.   
A beeping echoes from the corner of the room. Roy’s head snaps up.   
“Bomb.” He shouts at us, “Find Cover!” He grabs my hand and pulls me away but out of the corner of my eye I see The Boy Wonder racing toward the bomb’s warning cry.


	7. In Hindsight...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barely a chapter. The aftermath of the explosion and appearance of our mysterious vigilante. Damian and Jay conflict, will those two ever learn to get along?

Chapter 7  
“Robin!” I yell straining against Roy’s grip. He turns with me.  
“Robin. GET DOWN” Damian ignores us. He just keeps running. I break free from Roy and race after Damian. I can hear Roy’s footsteps pounding behind me but my main concern is the idiot preteen in front of me. My heart beats faster and my breathing comes in gasps. It feels as though my feet are stuck in molasses, unable to move quickly enough, unable to save Robin again. Instead of Jason, it’s Damian. Instead of a harpoon, it’s a bomb, but I’m just as helpless, as useless, as unhero-like as ever.  
“Kid!” I shout, “Batman’s son my ass!” He stops, just for a second, but it’s more than enough time for me to load a bola in my crossbow, aim, and shoot. The stupid brat topples. I race forward, grabbing the rabid creature on the ground. He hisses and struggles against my grip as I throw us behind a column. I clench my eyes shut and pray the blast doesn’t crush us.  
Damian coughs rattle against my chest. Our wheezes echo amongst the debris, sending dust swirling around our faces. I shake my hair and sputter.  
“Are you okay?” I ask Damian weakly.  
“Yeah.” He whispers. He looks so young with his face and dark hair coated in white powder, his normally creased features softened by daze.  
“Good, it wouldn’t be any fun to kill you if you were hurt,” I groan and stand up, rubbing my shoulder. I look around the warehouse. The tech is destroyed. My eyes search wildly for red hair, panic filling my stomach at the absence of it. Where is he? Why didn’t I check to make sure he was safe?  
“Red!” No reply. “Come on! Answer me.” We start to pick through the rubble. Tech sizzles and sparks as I push it around. “Roy, where the hell are you?” Damian looks at me with unease, obviously sensing my fear. I hear the crash of tech being moved and coughs reverberating from the side of the room. I jump dangerously from one unsteady item to the next. Damian follows.  
He’s still nowhere to be seen.  
“ROY!” An arm breaks out of the rubble like a beacon of hope. I scramble toward him grabbing at his hand and pulling him free. My fingers brush dust off of his face- trembling fingers. He pulls me into his arms, holding me there. Why didn’t I look back? At what point did I forget about him?  
“How did they know we’d be here?” he mutters. I ignore his question, more concerned with his physical state.  
“Are you okay? Is anything broken?”  
“I’m fine,” he shrugs me off. I grab his arm- harsher than necessary. He winces, but doesn’t pull away. I help him up. Looking around, I sigh in defeat. Grayson is not going to be happy about this.  
We make our way outside. The guards lay in a heap, completely oblivious of the destruction inside. Is it bad that I get some pleasure from the thought of them making up to this?  
Now it’s time to deal with Damian.  
“What the hell was that?” I yell, still holding Roy up.  
“I knew what I was doing.” Are you fucking kidding me?  
“You’re right. You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew you were endangering your life and ours. You knew that you were disobeying orders. You knew that you were making a mistake but went with it anyway. When the squad leader tells you to get down. You get down!”  
“You can’t tell me what to do,”  
“Really? GO BACK TO THE CAVE.” He stalks off, hopefully to the zeta-beam entry point. Roy chuckles at me, earning a classic death-glare and silently spoken curse.  
A dark figure catches my eye. The outline of a man shifts along the roof of the warehouse. It turns to return my stare- cape fluttering in the breeze. The sun glances off his face- blood red, and a bat insignia on his chest.

 _I'm going to wear the bat symbol one day. Just you wait and see Jay_. 


	8. Friday Night Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Great long chapter. I had a lot of fun writing this one. The Bat Family have a classic sit down dinner, Damian and Margo bond over bad mom's and secret passage ways,and over all fluffiness. There's a lot of dialogue because I love doing dialogue but sometimes it can be hard to follow, let me know if it's confusing or if you have any tips to make it smoother. I don't want to be that annoying writer but I'm that annoying writer. I really want feedback and i want to hear any ideas or thoughts or weird musing anyone has so if you have one drop it in the reviews. Alright I'm done.

Chapter 8

                “Hi,” says the sullen red head leaning against my doorframe. The fluorescents bend around his defined figure- an outline of light surrounding him.

                “Hey.”

                “I just wanted to say good job today- saving Damian.”

                “You would have done it if I didn’t.” I avoid his eyes but desperately want him to keep talking.

                “You still don’t get it do you?” My head snaps up at his exasperated tone. “You don’t even like the kid and you raced to help him. All I wanted was to save you. When you’re around it makes me stupid, but apparently I don’t have the same effect on you, which actually was to our benefit,” he scoffs and turns to leave.

 “Don’t be so sure,” I whisper. He glances at me over his shoulder, then walks away.   

The training room welcomes me, protects me. Grunts echo off the walls of the vacant mission room. My joints creak from rust. The wound in my shoulder just refuses to heal; I mean it would probably help if I stopped straining it. My hits strike the air, longing a sparring partner. Even baby bat would keep me on my toes, and I need to get sharper. Movement shifts in my peripheral vision. I keep practicing but scan the room for the shadow. Every muscle in my body tenses in anticipation. If the red-bat branded man is here, I’m ready- to _die_.

My eyes spot the shadow. I spin around, punching backwards, but he evaporates. Each time I catch a glimpse of him he vanishes. My impulsive moron of an alter ego takes control of me. I see the figure and twist around wildly, shouting,

“Who’s there?” But there’s no one to answer, just a message on the wall.

                _Margo. How are my replacements?_

                What is happening? Someone’s messing with me, but why? What would anyone gain from pretending to be Jason? It could be someone on the team- someone trying to drive me away. That would explain how they knew we were going to be at the warehouse. I’m not a detective. I’m loud, obnoxious, clumsy, but I’m going to have to play detective to figure this stupid situation out. Or maybe just ask Dick for help.

                I clean the message off the wall and gather my things to leave.

                “Jay,” Red Tornado’s voice startles me.

                “Jeez man you scared me.”

                “I. Am. Not. A man. I am an android.”

                “What’s up?”

                “Batman. Thinks I am. A messenger.” I laugh. “I am not. But. I will relay. The message.” I nod,

                “Okay,”

                “Will you tell Jay? That I would like her. To come to dinner. That was Bruce.”

                “Did he happen to mention when and with whom?” I ask wincing. Please don’t say Damian. Tell me he has a play date or something.

                “It will be at The Batman’s estate tonight with Nightwing. Robin. Batgirl. And the young Wayne.” Dammit.

                “Alright. Thanks for the message Red.”

                “You seem. Unhappy. Is that correct?” For an android he’s pretty perceptive.

                “I’ve got a lot on my mind and my mind doesn’t hold much.”

                “Concerned then?”

                “Yeah,” I sigh. Red Tornado starts to leave but stops.

                “Perhaps. You should. Consult. A friend,” he says before zeta-ing away. Stupid android.

I do not want to go to dinner with the bat fam- at all, but what Bruce wants I do. I need a dress.

                Dick opens the door. He’s abandoned the mask and suit for messy hair and a crisp button up shirt. I fluff my skirt awkwardly and wait to be invited inside. Grayson’s cobalt eyes light up at my ridiculousness and he laughs that wonderful laugh of his at the expense of my pride.

                “Are you coming in?” He asks. Hesitantly, I wave my foot over the threshold and step inside. We walk to the dining room, with Grayson glancing at me- a curious look in his eye. He stops me from going through the door.

“Look, you’d be justified in doing so but don’t kill Damian tonight. Okay.”

                “I wouldn’t have saved the brat if I was going to kill him,” I say with my fingers crossed behind my back. Dick looks pleased with my answer, unbarring the door. We enter the lion’s den- me holding my breath.

                Bruce sits at the head of the table, an empty chair at his right hand, Damian at his left, Tim sits as far as a person can sit from Damian with a death glare locked on the eleven year old, and Barb sits next to Damian. I assume I’ll be sitting across from Bruce but Dick swoops down on the safe seat leaving me to slink toward my old mentor. Tim hops up to pull my chair out.

                “Thanks Rob.” Tim smirks in triumph at Damian. Apparently the affectionate nickname for Robins didn’t pass to the newest. I slide my seat in, sneaking peeks at Bruce like a shy child.

                Servers start to bring in enormous platters. We all fidget nervously, Dick looking around at us in amusement. Bruce clears his throat,

                “Margo, firstly: welcome back, and thank you for what you did with Damian.”

                “Yeah well your family is my family.” Damian raises his eyebrow, obviously not expecting my reply. Noticing my stare he narrows his eyes and turns his head away.

                “Hey where’s Alfred,” I ask looking around the room.

                “He’s around somewhere.”

                “I want to see him before I leave.”

                “Maybe you can catch him next time.” Next time? What does Bruce mean by next time?

                “Father? Did you give _Margo_ her name,” Damian sneers pointing out that he knows my true identity. Bruce looks at me quizzically.

                “He means Jay X. He thinks it’s stupid.” Bruce grins.

                “Why don’t you tell him?” he offers.

                “I’d rather not,”

                “I haven’t heard this story,” Tim states.

                “You tell me what’s with the death glare,” I demand. He shuts up quick. Tim doesn’t like to be the center of attention and I can always use that to my benefit, poor kid.

                “I’m going to the bathroom,” I announce, pushing away from the table and stumbling out of the room. My hand drags against the walls as I meander down the hallways I used to so easily get lost in. It used to take me forever to find the bathroom in the middle of the night. My hand stops at a sconce- exploring it in curiosity. It’s off center, just enough to be worthy of further inspection. I’m sure I’m going to regret this but I yank on the fixture, expecting it to break off the wall as a mark of my destruction. Instead, it slides down as the wall begins to shake and moan, separating to revel a secret passage way. I have to go in. I’m pretty sure that’s the rule of finding secret holes in walls.

                I creep along the dark passage way. An overwhelming scent of must and mildew assaults my nose, causing me to cough and gag. Sure, maybe I’m being a little dramatic. The darkness envelopes me and, although I feel I should be anxious, it comforts me. It’s as if I’m being embraced by the nothing and that I don’t truly exist, swimming through the darkness. If only it were that simple. 

                “ _Mars”_ a voice calls from the emptiness, shaking me out of my fantasy. “ _Mars.”_ I try to pin point the origin of the sound but just end up chasing echoes. “ _Mars. Or should I call you Margo, or Jay?”_ “ _Over here Mars. I’m over here.”_ My head hurts as I spin around wildly following the voice as it slashes at me. What is happening to me? This isn’t a game or someone from the team. No one calls me that anymore. Just Jason, a long time ago. I’m losing my mind. “ _Mar…”_

                “SHUT UP” I shout, collapsing on the ground with my fingers tangled in my hair.

                “What are you doing?” Damian’s voice enquires. I turn to look at him but instead get a blaring light shone in my eyes.

                “Ow. Are you trying to cook my eyeballs?” He lowers the flashlight. His face is twisted into a slightly less disgusted expression than usual. Hmm maybe he’s warming up to me. Don’t worry, I still hate him.

                “I want to show you something.” He treads away, not even waiting for me to follow. We wind our way through endless tunnels. Dust cakes my fingers as I touch the wall.

                “Ick,” I groan. Damian shoots me an irritated look.

                “Why are you touching the wall? You’re like a child.” His exasperation fuels my urge to annoy the hell out of him.

                “I may be _like_ a child but you actually are one Baby Bat,”

                “Damian. Da-mi-an,” he says through clenched teeth, “and I’m not a kid. I’ve never been a kid.”

                “That explains a lot.” He glares at me, and I turn away- uncomfortable with his gaze. The sound of our footsteps bouncing off the walls. Only that and our breath can be heard. To say the least it’s awkward.

                Damian stops and presses his hand against the wall. The bricks began to rumble and slide open at the will of his touch. We step onto a closet. No literally it’s a closet; coats and sweaters attack my face- obscuring my vision. I feel a small hand wrap around my arm and pull me out into a dark room.

                “Is this Narnia?” I whisper, widening my eyes in mock amazement. A sparkle of amusement glints off Damian’s eye, but he crushes it with a frown and creased brow. The room is actually pretty incredible and one I’ve never seen before. Tributes are set up along the walls- every Robin, Barbara, and Me. A holographic statue of Jason stares down at us. A smirk plays across his lips like a secret only he knows; Dick stands to the left of him in his strength and glory- the original Robin; I’m just a grinning madwoman in between Jason and Tim; Tim serious as always; and Damian painted with the same furious frustration as always. “Is it just me or is this really creepy in kind of a sweet way?”

                “You’re his favorite you know.” I scoff.

                “No I’m not. Dick’s his favorite,” realizing my mistake I burst into obnoxious giggles. Damian tries desperately to keep a straight face but fails- melting into a chortling heap. I wipe at my eyes and correct myself, “ _Grayson._ How could he not be? He was the first and he’s one of the most amazing people you’ll ever meet.” I say in admiration. Damian looks up at me perplexed.

                “I thought you were with Harper?” The heat floods my cheeks in embarrassment.

                “No…but I didn’t mean…Dick is like a brother to me- like Tim is and Jason was.”

                “Oh.” He kicks at the ground, scuffing his… loafers? What kind of kid wears loafers? He huffs in annoyance.

                “Spit it out kid.” He takes a deep breath,

                “I want to know why you call yourself that stupid name. Why aren’t you Batgirl or Robin?”

                “Well first of all back in my day there was only one Robin- to avoid confusion. And I didn’t want to be Batgirl. It doesn’t really suit me.” Damian crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. “God you’re persistent. Fine. I didn’t want to be just another Bat Brat, I wanted to be different, to have my own mantle like Nightwing or Red Arrow. I was a pity case not a sidekick.” A look of understanding flashes across his face.

                “But why that?” This kid is like a grade schooler- a dangerous angry grade schooler.

                “Jay like a Blue Jay. When I was eight I was playing with a BB gun and I shot a Blue Jay. I was so guilty I brought the bird to my mom sobbing and she was just so angry that I brought vermin into her home she beat the crap out of me. I guess it was like a reminder that I could do something horrible and have someone not care at all but that doesn’t mean I don’t have to be guilty about it. X is because I’m an orphan and I hate my parents so I actually don’t have a last name.” I look at Damian’s face- twisted in thought. “Hey. You satisfied now?” One nod is all I get.

                “Do you realize we completely ditched Father’s dinner?”

                “Ha. He’s going to kill us.” We start to leave. “You know you owe me something deep and personal and possibly painful story right?” He smirks.

                “First rule in this business: secret identities are everything,” he says mockingly.

                “Cute.” I swing my hand to thump the back of his head, but he ducks. Oh well it wouldn’t have hurt him that much anyway.   

                We arrive at the dining room covered in grime but much faster than I thought we would. Everybody stares at us with mouths agape.

                “What happened to you two,” Bruce asks utterly confused.

                “Secret passage,” I say sitting down across from Damian. Dick’s eyes flick back and forth between us rapidly.

                “Wait. You’re together? And intact?” Damian glares at our leader. “Okay. Good.” Bruce shakes his head at our odd behavior. In my defense, it’s his fault we’re so weird.

                “Let’s just eat.” We all nod as the third course is brought in, mine and Damian’s cold food being cleared away.

                Before I leave, I pull Dick aside.

                “At the place we were supposed to “rob”, I saw someone. They were wearing a solid red helmet that covered their face, but the weird thing was they had a red bat on their chest.” Dick’s eyes narrow

                “I’ll look into it,” he says.

                “Maybe Tim could help too. He’s a pretty good detective right?” Dick nods.

                “Did you notice anything else?” Just that it might be the ghost of my dead friend who’s trying to be Batman.

                “It was kind of weird that he knew we’d be there.” I can see Grayson’s wheels turning in real time. A weight is lifted off of my chest at the relief of having someone much more capable in the know.

                “Go home and get some sleep. This actually didn’t go so bad did it?” I shake my head and smile- kissing Dick on the cheek and sauntering away.

                “Bye Nightwing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Margo ever call Damian by his name? Is she really losing her mind or is Jason's ghost haunting her? How cute is our bat-fam? For anyone whose interested about why Damian is so obsessed with Margo's name, it's because he's enamored with her. He's completely intrigued by her craziness and very un-hero like demeanor, and he want to know more about her. Yes it annoys him slightly but it's more that he doesn't know why she doesn't want to be identified as one of Batman's sidekicks because she fits in the family and he feels that he doesn't. I want to start developing their relationship, with her as a sister/mom type figure and giving Damian more of a soft vulnerable side because at the end of the day he is just a kid.


	9. While I Was Sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened when Margo was asleep. 3rd person switch warning. I'll probably start to do that more often to show things that Margo didn't witness. What can I say. I'm stuck on the cute train and only Satan below knows when I'll get off. Enjoy.

Chapter 9   

                     Wally looks at me for the fifth time in a minute. This is getting ridiculous. He looks at me again with that mischievous twitch of his mouth. This is bad. The last time he was acting like this, he took a video of me dancing in my heart underwear to Christina Aguilera. God knows what the hell he’s done this time.

                He snickers and coughs to cover it up. I glare at him and snarl under my breath. He peeks at me again.

                “Wally. If you look at me like that one more time, I’m going to make you go at the speed of light with my fist.”

                “Alright, alright.” He grins at me with a cruel dare. _Don’t you want to know what I know?_

                “You drive me crazy West.”

                “Well red heads have that effect on you don’t they?” I blush and open my mouth to protest. “Of course I don’t have ‘eyes like a storm sprinkled with the ocean’ I guess that would help.” My eyes search for an escape, while glaring at Wally. “Feel free to run your fingers through my ‘perfect copper locks’ as a substitute.” My face burns hot with embarrassment and anger.

                “I have no idea what you are talking about, but I’m going to tell on you to Artemis.” I gasp as Roy appears behind Wally and smacks him- hard. Wally’s head flies forward and he groans.

                “Shut up Wally.” I can see an untamed anger raging behind Roy’s eyes and a hot flush rushes beneath his skin. Fear actually flashes across my mind at the sight of Roy in such an out of control state.

                “Roy baby. So cruel.” Wally whimpers, still teasing. Roy glares at him causing him to whoosh out of the room (and harm’s way).  

                “He was just messing with me. Creative bastard.” I turn away in embarrassment. If I didn’t care about him then I wouldn’t have had that reaction and everyone knows it.

                “You should be careful what you say in your sleep. You never know who could hear you.” I can feel his ragged breathing.

                “Wait. Did I really say that?”

                “You say a lot of things Margo.” My heart patters at the prospect of all the feelings that I keep locked inside me being exposed, especially to Roy. The things I could say about the way he clouds my mind, the way his eyes swallow me, how much I crave him, think about him are not for anyone else’s ears.

                “Yeah I say a lot of things. And they may seem stupid but they are thought out and I mean to say them. So I want to know what I said.”

                “You said…things. Things you probably didn’t mean and I was forced to listen as Grayson and West giggled like pre-teen girls and you painted a picture of things that we don’t do,” he moans and strokes my hair, “but god. I want to. And if you hadn’t have left…” I pull away from his touch, now a burning weapon.

                “If I hadn’t have left. If Jason hadn’t have died. If my family had stayed whole. If we were normal. But you know what Roy? Shit happens, but you move on and you make new mistakes. So the question isn’t ‘what would have happened if I had stayed?’ It’s ‘what are you gonna do now?’ cause I’m here, and… I’m staying.” I storm out, leaving a dumbstruck Roy standing there with his hand still in the air.

                I don’t know why I said that. Maybe it was to prove to him that he can’t just ignore me. Maybe I wanted him to tell me that the thing he was going to do, was grab me and never let me go. Maybe I’m just an idiot. I don’t know-but I guess I’m staying.  Funny how things work out like that.

                My face squashes as I flop onto my bed. I pull the covers over me and scream into a pillow. This sucks and I’m tired. It seems like all I do is get harassed by a ghost and annoy people. A knock sounds from my door. I grunt in response.

                “Hey. I came to apologize. I was just messing around.”

                “I know,” I mumble, almost inaudibly.

                “Roy is great but he’s so uptight. That’s the only reason he hasn’t made a move.”

                “That and he hates me,” I whine into the pillow.

                “Artemis hated me but now we’re in love and I can’t live without her. I know that Roy cares about you. That’s why he took it so hard when you left.”

                “He’s being stupid. I lo- lost my best friend,” I stumble on the almost L-word praying that Wally didn’t catch that tidbit.

                “You know what? I’m gonna fix this.”

                “Wally no!” I jump up but he’s already zoomed away. Great. This just gets better and better.

**3 rd Person: When I Was Sleeping **

Wally carried a babbling Margo into the Med Bay. Blood dripped from her shoulder, splashing against the cold steel floor. The speedster yelled out for his team mates, Red Tornado, anyone to hear him and help him with the wounded girl in his arms. He lay her down on a table as Dick and Roy raced into the room. Roy stiffened at the sight of Margo- his hand itching to reach out and touch her, kiss her, hold her and never let her go. Instead he turned on the other ginger.

                “What the hell happened?” Wally shrugged.

                “I don’t know. She showed up like this.” Dick was already inspecting his old friend, pushing fabric away from the bullet hole.

                “It looks like a flesh wound, but I think she’s lost a lot of blood-“

                “Roy!” The girl called out in agony, thrashing her silver hair around. The archer jerked forward, aching to go to her.

                “We’ve got to clean it and stich it up,” Dick stated urgently. Roy nodded and moved. He gathered things strewn around. Alcohol, cotton, and bandages, a sedative, needle and thread. Margo murmured nonsensically. Little moans slipped from her lips along with fragmented dialogue with an imaginary person.

                “Hmm. Don’t go. Just come back and kiss me. I want.” Roy clenched his jaw and avoided the eyes of Dick and Wally, who although concerned for their friend couldn’t help but be amused at her inner desires. The archer grabbed the neck of Margo’s suit and ripped it. The fabric tore apart, exposing her bloodied breast and skin. She whimpered pitifully as the blood tacky suit yanks at the tender wound. “Gentle.” The sting of alcohol rushed across her bare skin, washing away the red. Lethal hands tenderly dabbed at her skin with soft cotton swaps but hesitated to pierce her skin with the needle. “Ow. I deserve that.”

                _Shut up Margo._ Roy thought angrily. He didn’t want to hurt her. If only she’d stop talking.

                “I like to run my hands through his perfect copper locks. Like silk. And touch his fair bare skin all the way down his body.” Roy blushed and begged her to stop silently. The few times they had been close it had been fleeting and juvenile- baring no resemblance to the sensual affairs she spoke of. Dick and Wally hid laughs behind their hands.

                “And his eyes. They’re like. A storm mixed with pieces of the ocean. I could…I could fall into them. If he’d let me.”  Wally laughed loudly.

                “You guys. Would you shut up?” Margo moaned in pain. “Alright I’m finished,” Roy inspected her ripped clothing.

“I want to rip his clothes off and…”

 “She needs something else to wear.” Wally grinned and whooshed out of the room. A bundle of clothes collided with Roy’s face, falling into his hands. He unraveled it to find a loose t-shirt and a pair of boxers. “Uhg whose are these?”

                “Yours.” Wally’s grin was wicked and pushy, but only in the best interest of his two stubborn friends. Neither Dick nor Wally made a move to leave, earning them a disgusted look from Roy.

                “Get out! Idiots.” The boys dart away from Roy’s glare. Alone with Margo he began to remove her suit- trying to avoid looking at her but eventually giving up and just stripping the material away quickly.

                “He hates me. I can’t stand that he hates me.” The serious man looked at the girl who saved him and didn’t know it. He didn’t hate her. Not really. He hated that he wasn’t enough to convince her to stay. He hated that even though she was surrounded by people who loved her, losing that one person broke her. He hated that when she was close to him he wasn’t a superhero, he was a man. His hands grazed her thighs as he pulled his boxers over her hips. It almost sickened him, how much pleasure he took in wrapping her in his underwear- like he was claiming her as his. He pulled the shirt over her, struggling with her tendency to spaz and flop around like a fish.

                She wouldn’t remember this when she awoke, and that’s why he did it. Roy leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers.

                “I missed you Margo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less intricate on the boxers scene than I wanted but I'm lazy and you get the gist. I love Wally so much.


	10. Welcome to The Streets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Firstly. It has been way too long and for this I am deeply sorry. The guilt has been eating me alive and I wish I had a better excuse than I was busy. Alas that is all there is. So who wants to know how Margo came to join the team? Anyone? Well the next few chapters will do just that.   
> Margo deals with life on the street and meets Jason for the first time.  
> Please enjoy.

4 years ago: A Gotham City Homeless Shelter

                “Wake up.” Someone kicks my hip, hard. I groan and blink my eyes open. Pieces of the ancient mat I’m lying on are stuck to my face; I brush them off and glare at the man-child who kicked me awake. The shuffling around me lets me know that it’s morning, which means that it’s time to leave. I grab my duffle and drag myself to my feet, tugging at my ratty army jacket and scratching my knotted hair. The volunteer grimaces at my unkempt appearance and mutter something about ‘dirty street kids’. This is just another day in the life of me.

                We’re corralled back onto the streets, and the doors are slammed shut behind us. Most of us will return before nightfall to try and score a musty mat in a slightly heated room for another night. The rest of us will disperse throughout the city in search of drugs, conquests, or peace of mind. I will avoid my kind, and then return to the shelter like I do every day. My bat swings at my side and my hand itches to grab it and swing it at this kid who keeps rubbing his hand on my ass. I don’t. The bat is for self-defense. Believe or not, he’s harmless, and I’ve had worse. So I keep moving and eventually break away from the pack.  

                The streets of Gotham are not a place you want to be, especially not as a sixteen year old girl. Luckily I have my trusty bat and a wicked tongue. I park myself on a corner and pull a hat out of my duffle. I used to hold up signs but have found that coughing and whimpering are much more persuasive. Uncomfortable pedestrians throw change at me and turn away in disgust. You’d think that in a city riddled with crime and poverty that people would be more used to scenes such as mine. Then again, what better for crime than a city that ignores it?

                People scurry around, past, and over me like rats in a garbage pile. Some stop to sniff at me but most are searching for their own special piece of trash and pay me no mind. It’s my own kind that seem to gravitate toward me. An old man grabs my arm.

                “Do you see them? Girlie they’re everywhere.” I roll my eyes and shake my arm loose of his grasp.

                “See what you old toad?” His breath reeks of rotted meat and whiskey. It makes me want to vomit. I resist though, swallowing down bile. You can judge, but how am I supposed to know when I’ll get something to eat again. I never understood how others could use their earnings for drugs when I could barely afford a hotdog. One day I was sitting with spider though. He was all jittery looking. I knew that he had just had a fix because he kept smiling all dreamy like. He looked at me and said,

                “You’re one of the smart ones” When I woke up he was dead. Spider wasn’t exactly in his right mind when he called me smart, but I sure was smarter than him and not willing to die of something like hunger. I’d been through worse than that.

                “In the rainbow! Girlie. The demons in the rainbow.” The old beggar shrieks at me. Fear floods through me at the absolute insanity of his voice. I kick at him and growl.

                “Get out of here you crazy old man.” He scuttles away, unperturbed, to ask someone else about the rainbow demons, leaving me simmering in my embarrassment.

                Someone tosses a coin at me and it bounces off my forehead. The desire to yell at them bubbles up inside me, but that would be yelling at someone for giving me money which would be stupid. Seriously though, why throw the fucking coin? Is it that hard to just drop it in the hat?

                Just when my heart starts to beat normally, the loud calls of rowdy boys pricks at my ears. They careen around the corner, whooping and hollering. I recognize a few of them and I know it’s Brolo’s gang. This is not good.

                I keep one eye on the group of boys and the other on my hat of change. Hopefully they won’t see me, or the money. My hand grabs the bat and she sings longingly. At least I might get to bash someone’s head in.

                “Look who it is.” Dammit. “Little Miss Mouth.” The nickname is familiar but I can’t tell which one of the boys says it. They’re all looking at me and moving closer than I’m comfortable with, a bunch of dogs wild with hunger. “How’ve you been?” The voice asks from the middle of the pack. I glare into each of their eyes with a cold hatred, hoping to prove myself an unforgiving victim. A boy steps up to meet my gaze, well a man really. His dusty blonde hair drops over his features, including a gnarled nose, permanently bruised, and a sliced up cheek. It’s Carroway, and he doesn’t look happy to see me, but I wouldn’t like to see the person who fucked up my face either. 

                “Wow. You look exactly the same. Like _exactly_ the same,” I smirk through the terror. Last time he made a move we were alone. Now I’m a pretty good fighter, but twelve guys is a lot.

                “Shut up Margo! You stupid little bitch. Where’ve ya been hiding huh?”

                “I haven’t been hiding. And you still couldn’t find me. Come on Carroway. I broke your nose; I didn’t gouge out your eyes.”  One of the dogs sidles closer to me, gnashing his teeth. I back up and hiss through my teeth, reduced to a cornered animal. The boys are jumping out of their skin. One word from Carroway and I’m puppy chow.

                “You broke my nose. I’m gonna break your legs, right after my boys break something else” He thinks he’s so clever. Okay that was a little clever.  

                “Let’s not be hasty… hey what’s that?” I point down the street and the jittery pack all turn to look. By the time they look back, I’m racing down the street.

                “Godammit. Get her!” Carroway yells, and the pack is off.

                _Run. Run. Run._ I think to myself. Darting past people. I hear women squealing and men shouting as the boys tear through the crowd. Stupid Carroway with his stupid gang. I swing around a corner into an alleyway, an alleyway with no exit. Shit.

                I hear them laughing behind me. My heart jumps into my throat as I turn around, eyes still trained on the dead end, trying to will the wall open. Hackles rise in their throats, more beast than man. Their eyes are shiny and hollow. Tears prick my eyes, not from fear, but because through the rabid mask I see them for what they are, a bunch of kids thrown into the street to become animals.

                My bat finds its way into my hand and I’m ready to fight, the way I did with Carroway, the way I did with Mom, the way I’ll do until I can’t fight anymore.

                A tall dark boy makes the first move. He swings wildly and I easily avoid him, swinging my bat against his out stretched fingers. I hear the crunch and smile as her clutches his smashed hand against his chest. He growls and retreats. Two more come at me, slamming me into the wall. I struggle beneath their weight, thrusting my knee against one’s groin. He whines and drops his hand giving me my fist back. I punch the other in the eye as hard as I can. He yelps but doesn’t release his hold, throwing his own punch. His fist grinds into my stomach, knocking the air from my lungs. My vision blurs and I groan. Desperately, I kick his ankle and push against him. We both crash against the ground. I straddle him and gouge my fingers into his eyes. He screams and smashes his fist against my head. I roll off him and stare at the rest of the boys, wondering why they’re fighting me one by one. I realize, their fighting for me. Whoever breaks me first gets me. It’s a terrible strategy.

                “Who’s next?!” I yell hoarsely. A voice echoes behind me.

                “I think it’s my turn.” I turn to look at the owner of the voice, a dark figure branded with a yellow R. Well I guess it’s my lucky day. He wooshes past me, cape fluttering silently. Now they attack all at once.  

                Robin throws a boy twice his size against the wall, quickly avoiding another’s clumsy attack. Some come after me. The wild prey-drive in their eyes. I grab my bat and swing cracking noses and jaws. Each crunch is a victory. Robing lands lightly beside me. A small smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.

                “You’re pretty good with that thing.” He grabs the bat from me and hands me his staff. “I want to try.” He throws the end of the bat into someone’s stomach and laughs joyfully. I don’t know whether to be disturbed or laugh to. The staff is clumsy in my grasp. I swing it and catch someone’s ear but it doesn’t have the satisfying crunch of my bat.

                “Hey Boy Wonder. Can I have my bat back?” He shoots me a wicked grin.

                “Nope. I’m having too much fun.”

                “Tell me. Would Batman approve of you stealing from a girl?”

                “Not stealing, borrowing. And Batman doesn’t approve of anything I do.” There’s a tinge of sadness in his voice. I look around. Some of the boys have disappeared around the corner, the rest lay on the ground. Robin looks at me. “You’re welcome,” he says and hands my bat to me.

 I mutter, “Thanks,” reluctantly.

“You stink,” he says. I wrinkle my nose and snap,

“Yeah well the butler changed the showerhead from gold to silver, so I just stopped showering.” He laughs at my hostility.

“Follow me.” What possesses me to do it I have no idea, but I follow the young vigilante out of the alley to an unknown destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if there's not enough action. I don't want the plot to move too slow but I do want the realism of how her day usually goes. Street Margo is bru-utal. I love it.


End file.
